


Prompt 7: I’ll Protect You!

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [7]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Comfortween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from: https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html7. I’ll protect you!Trying to protect someone and failing, trying to protect someone and getting hurt in the process.Jimmy protects Thomas - Thomas wants to know why.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	Prompt 7: I’ll Protect You!

Jimmy didn’t see who threw the first punch. His attention had been elsewhere, watching the curve of Thomas’s arse as he bent over the snooker table to reach a particularly awkward shot, when the commotion started at the other table.

A fight over winnings, apparently.

Thomas pulled on Jimmy’s sleeve; “Time to go.” And Jimmy nodded tightly, taking a grip of Thomas arm.

Once Jimmy had left Thomas to take a beating meant for him. Now he’d rather take a hundred beatings than let anyone lay a hand on the under-butler.

Jimmy told himself it was because he owed Thomas as much. Because they were mates now - best mates.

The real reason hung just outside the periphery of Jimmy’s mind and occasionally forced its way into his consciousness like the shadow of a moth skittering across a lampshade.

As they tried to squeeze past the scuffle one of the men threw back an elbow - without thinking Jimmy shoved Thomas out of the way. The errant elbow hit Jimmy right in the nose with a god-awful crunch and he clutched his face with a yowl. Thomas dragged him the rest of the way outside, his nose leaving a trail of crimson spots behind them.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Thomas said, dabbing ineffectually at Jimmy’s face with one of his good, monogrammed handkerchiefs.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“And you thought I’d prefer your nose being broken instead?” Thomas held the handkerchief to Jimmy’s face as the footman pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the flow.

“You’ll ruin that.”

“Sod the handkerchief you daft bugger. I should take you to see Clarkson,” Thomas sighed. He tilted Jimmy’s face up to the moonlight so he could survey the damage.

“Don’t be soft, it’s just a nosebleed,” Jimmy said, even though it was already swelling. It probably _was_ broken.

“Well let’s get home and ice it at the very least.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Jimmy still holding Thomas’s handkerchief to his face.

“Thanks though,” Thomas said, “for, y’know.”

“Hm,” Jimmy said, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. “You know me, I’m a regular _Scaramouche_.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh; “You’re definitely a clown alright.”

“You know what I meant,” Jimmy said hotly, “no need to be quite so amused, I did just save you back there.”

Thomas tried to disguise his smile and said, with mock earnestness; “Of course, I’m so sorry, _my hero_.”

“Should’ve let him sock you one.”

Thomas just smirked.

“Should’ve socked you one meself.”

“You probably wouldn’t be able to reach all the way up here.”

“Are you calling me short?”

“If the cap fits.”

“Bastard.”

“Shrimp.”

“...lavender.”

“Oi,” Thomas stopped and glared, “Jesus Jimmy, less of that. What if someone hears you.”

Jimmy stuffed the ruined handkerchief in his trouser pocket made a show of looking around - the tree-lined pathway leading up to Downton was deserted. “Ah yes, I forgot about the throngs of people that might overhear us.”

Thomas frowned; “Ok, not right now, but you shouldn’t joke about it anyway. I could go to prison you know.”

“I know - sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Head injury.” Jimmy pointed to his throbbing nose. 

“I think it’s more likely the beer what’s to blame.”

“I’m not very _tight_ ,” Jimmy frowned.

Thomas raised his eyebrows sceptically. 

Jimmy shrugged. “Anyway, I wouldn’t let ‘em take you to prison - they’d have to go through me first.”

“Oh really?” Thomas shook his head and started walking again. “You’d stand between me and the coppers whilst I made my escape, would you?”

Jimmy jogged to catch up caught the under-butler’s elbow, forcing him to stop. “I mean it Thomas, I wouldn’t let you go to prison. I’d stand in the court and say it were me if it meant saving you.”

Thomas bobbed his head, abashed. “You _are_ tight. You wouldn’t even own up to ruining that waistcoat to save Alfred’s hide, but you’d go to prison for me?”

“Yeah, but I don’t love Alfred, do I?” Jimmy said, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.

“What did you say?” Thomas’s eyes were saucer-wide and a perfect match for the silver moon.

“Absolutely nothin’!” Jimmy panicked.

“You said,” Thomas laughed in disbelief, “you said you _love_ me.”

“No,” Jimmy started walking towards the Abbey, “what I said was _I don’t love Alfred_.“

“As opposed to how you feel about me.”

“I don’t feel anything about you.”

“Nothing at all.”

“No.”

“But you’d take an elbow to the face for me and you’d go to prison for me?”

Jimmy stopped. “Erm. Yes.”

“For a man you feel absolutely nothing for.”

“Well...”

Thomas shook his head. “Well that makes sense, I’m so glad we had this talk.” And he strode off around the side of the Abbey and into the back yard.

“Thomas, wait,” Jimmy caught up to Thomas by the back door. “Just - just stop and listen to me will you?”

Thomas paused and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“The thing is,” Jimmy started, “you see I’ve been - I mean lately I’ve felt like - and this hasn’t happened before - I’m not like that normally, I can tell you - an’ it’s taken a while to figure it out - but I don’t think I _can_ , y’know - an’ I’m scared of it all - and just, it’s not men, it’s you, because it’s _you_ , y’know?”

“Maybe you _are_ concussed.”

“Oh sod this,” Jimmy said, grabbed Thomas by his lapels and kissed him on the lips. Thomas’s mouth was warm; he tasted like old cigarettes and ale and it hurt Jimmy’s face to do it, but it was still wonderful.

“ _Definitely_ concussed,” Thomas said when they broke apart, but he was smiling as broadly as Jimmy had ever seen.

“Oh shut up for once,” Jimmy said, and kissed Thomas again.


End file.
